


easier than you know

by mardia



Category: Law & Order: UK
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as part of Yuletide Madness. "Matt never pushes for anything, and Alesha takes things precisely as far as she wants to, and so far, this state of affairs is working out for her just fine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	easier than you know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elzed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzed/gifts).



> This fic does take into account the events of 1x07: Alesha, and makes references to a previous instance of rape, and the recovery from that incident. If that's going to trigger you, stay away. (Also, if you feel that something's inaccurate or problematic, please say so--I tried to be as sensitive as possible, but if I messed up with that, I'd definitely like to know.)

Alesha kisses Matt for the first time when they're watching an Arsenal match. She just...leans up and does it, brushes her mouth against his in something that's almost too light, too hesitant to be called a real kiss, a proper kiss.

For a second Matt doesn't move, and then he's kissing her back, just the lightest pressure against her mouth. When Alesha pulls away, Matt's eyes flutter open and he stares at her, clearly surprised.

"What...Alesha."

They've been doing this for weeks now, Matt coming over to her flat, having a bite to eat, watching whatever's on the telly, usually football. Matt's an Arsenal fan, so that's what they usually watch--sitting together on her couch, his arm brushing against hers only occasionally, his knee pressed against hers.

"Sorry," Alesha breathes, pulling back. It's the first time she's ever apologized for a kiss.

"No, don't--I liked it," Matt says quickly, all in a rush. When Alesha looks up at him again, he's staring right back at her, his face tentative but hopeful. He asks, "Alesha, not that I mind, just to be clear...but why'd you kiss me?"

Alesha says the truth--simple, and yet a little terrifying, if you're her.

"Because I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you."

Matt looks at her, for a long moment, and Alesha looks right back at him, not quite sure of what he's seeing. Whatever it is, it must be good, because now he's the one leaning in, and pressing his mouth against hers in what can only be called a real kiss, a proper one, one she can feel all the way down to her toes.

They kiss until the second half of the game starts, and when they pull apart, Alesha's mouth feels swollen. She settles back in, but this time, she's resting against Matt's side, her head on his shoulder, watching the action on the screen, and only occasionally reaching up with her fingers to touch her mouth.

"You know," she remarks as Arsenal scores for the second time that night, "I think I could learn to like this team."

"Yeah," Matt says, sounding happy. "I thought you might."

*

Alesha goes and sees her therapist once a week. It's not always pleasant, but she sticks with it. She tries to be as honest as she can--not much point in going to therapy, if all you're going to do is lie about how well you're doing--but there's always that tiny part of her brain, picking over her answers, looking for the weak spots.

Alesha tries to turn that off, but it's not as easy as you would think.

"I kissed Matt," she blurts out in the middle of her session.

Dr. Simpson doesn't look very surprised by that. She doesn't look very surprised at many things, which is part of what comes of being a therapist, Alesha guesses. "Did you?"

"Yeah. We were, um, watching a match on my television and I just--did it." Alesha's thought about the kiss quite a bit since it happened, and every time, there's a tiny flare of warmth that goes off in the pit of her stomach when she does.

There's also a twinge of panic, but Alesha tries to push that down whenever it pops up.

"How was it?"

"Good," Alesha says. "It was good. Surprising, but good."

"Surprising?" Dr. Simpson prods.

"I didn't think I was going to do it--well, not until I did," Alesha admits. "I just--I don't know. Should I be kissing him?"

"Is there a reason you think you shouldn't be?"

Alesha looks at her therapist and says, with a tinge of exasperation, "You know, at some point you're going to have to stop answering my questions with more questions."

Dr. Simpson smiles and says, "Okay. Indulge me for a little longer. Do you think you shouldn't be kissing Matt?"

"I don't know." Alesha thinks about it. "We're colleagues. Friends. I don't want to muck that up. And I still feel--unsure of myself, sometimes." That's an understatement. "But I liked it," Alesha confesses in a rush. "I like being with him. I like kissing him."

"Then I think that's a good place to start." Dr. Simpson says, and maybe it is.

 

*

Matt keeps coming over, and Alesha keeps on kissing him, sliding her mouth against hers, while football commentators blather on about tactics and defenses and the state of the league table. Alesha doesn't understand half of what they're going on about, really, but that never seems to matter, not when Matt's kissing her, his hands resting on her face, high on her back.

He never moves to touch her anywhere else, never slides his hands too low or too high. His grip's always featherlight, never too strong or too rough. Alesha would call him on it, except that she's too relieved to do so.

Alesha likes kissing him, true, but that doesn't mean she wants to do anything else, yet. It doesn't mean she's ready for anything else.

But she does like kissing him, but more than that, she likes touching him--resting her hand on his arm, reaching out to brush his soft hair with her fingertips, feeling the weave of his sweater beneath the palm of her hand.

Matt never pushes for anything, and Alesha takes things precisely as far as she wants to, and so far, this state of affairs is working out for her just fine.

*

They're thirty minutes into the match, and Alesha knows she's driving Matt out of his head. They're sitting on the couch, as usual, and Alesha's stroking his hair, which isn't quite so usual. She likes doing it though, likes, letting her fingernails drag along the nape of his neck, likes the way his hair feels against the tips of her fingers, thick and soft.

She also likes the pink flush to Matt's cheeks and ears, and knowing she put it there.

The referee whistles on the television. "Was that offsides?" Alesha asks, in an innocent voice, and is rewarded when Matt says promptly, "No idea whatsoever."

He turns to look at her and says, in all sincerity, "I mean it, you're the worst distraction, I have no idea what's been happening on the pitch ever since you started playing with my hair."

"Would you like me to stop?"

" _No_ ," Matt says firmly, and Alesha has to bite back a smile. "I mean, no please."

"So I should keep going then?"

"Or we could kiss," Matt offers hopefully. "I liked that bit, we can go right ahead with that."

Alesha pretends to consider it, and then shakes her head. "No, actually, I'm really getting into this game. We'll just have to wait until halftime."

Matt lets out a theatrical groan, but doesn't actually press for more, and that's what gets Alesha to kiss him, as she just twists around on the couch and leans in, licking into his mouth until he's groaning again, but for a different reason entirely. His hand's on her back, not pressing or pushing, the touch still so light.

Alesha pulls away, and asks, "Do you ever...want more?"

Matt blinks at her. "Want--" His expression clears as he understands, and he says quickly, "Alesha, no, this--this is good. This is _great_." She doesn't reply, and he says, with a little more urgency, "Alesha--I'm happy with whatever you want. I promise you, I am."

She believes him, and still-- "Sometimes I don't know what I want."

"That's fine. I'm not in any rush," Matt tells her, his blue eyes sincere.

Alesha breathes out, and says, "All right."

Her fingers trail along his cheek, and Matt lets out a soft sigh, leaning into the touch.

 _All right_ , Alesha thinks to herself, and she'll keep on thinking that, until hopefully she starts to believe it.

*

She keeps thinking about it though. About Matt groaning into her mouth, about her hands pressing down on his chest. What it'd feel like to have her hands on her, really touching her. Whether she even wants it, or just thinks she ought to want it.

She wants _something_ , she knows that much, but when she tries to put it into specifics, tries to think of Matt's body on top of hers, his weight pressing her down into her bed, Alesha flashes back to the feel of a cheap hospital gown against her skin, and then she has to press her hands down flat against her thighs to keep them from shaking.

Recovery is a process, someone had told her once, but nobody seems willing to give her any hints on how to fastforward through it.

*

The idea occurs to her in the middle of the workday. Alesha's not sure where it comes from, to be honest, but once she starts thinking about it, she...just can't seem to stop. Part of her wonders whether Matt'll even go for it, whether he'll even want to--

 _Before she can talk herself out of it, she picks up her mobile and texts Matt._

 _are you busy this weekend?_   


He replies less than half an hour later.

 _sure i am. i'll be busy spending time with you._

*

They're on her couch again, watching a movie this time. Alesha's resting her head on Matt's shoulder, and says, almost casually, "Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow?"

Matt replies absently, his focus on the television. "No, got the day off. Why?"

Alesha licks at her mouth and says, refusing to back out, "Because I was hoping you'd spend the night."

Matt doesn't say anything for a moment, and she doesn't look up at his face to see how he's taking the idea. Finally, Matt says, his arm tightening around her for a moment, "Alesha, are you _sure?_ "

He sounds hopeful and concerned in equal measures, and Alesha lets out a breath, suddenly far more confident in this. She twists around so she's looking him in the face, and says, "Yeah. I mean--only if you want to." When Matt nods, eyes wide, she smiles at him. "Good. Because I...kind of had an idea." She lets a tiny smirk come to her face, and adds, sly, "Of course, we can wait until the movie's finished, I know how much you were enjoying it--"

"To hell with the movie," Matt says immediately, and then says quickly, "I mean, shit, if you want to wait, that's fine--"

Alesha laughs. "Come on, then," she says, getting up off the couch, and when she offers her hand to Matt, it's perfectly steady, not a tremor to be seen.

*

Matt's standing in her bedroom, shifting his weight from side to side. "How do you--I mean, what exactly--"

"I want to see you," Alesha says, her voice soft. "I want--" She stops, and she's never been the sort of girl to blush or hesitate at everything to do with sex, but this is different, she's different now, and this is Matt--

But this was her idea, and she does want to do this. So Alesha lifts her chin, looks him dead in the eye, and says, "I want to see you getting yourself off."

Matt's eyes are almost impossibly wide. "You--wait, really?"

"Yeah. Unless you don't want to, and then we can just--"

"No," Matt says, holding up a hand. "No, that's--I can--" He laughs, softly, but Alesha can tell he's laughing at himself, and not at her. "Yes, is what I'm trying to get at. Yes."

Alesha's smile has more than a little bit of relief in it. "Okay, good." She takes a step toward him, her voice dropping, getting softer as she repeats, "Good."

She steps right up to him, liking the way that he's just watching her, waiting to see what she'll suggest next, what she'll do next. Alesha reaches out, her hands going to the hem of Matt's jumper, and starts to pull it up, Matt helpfully lifting up his arms so that she can pull it over his head.

He's wearing a thin white shirt beneath, and as Alesha looks at him, at his broad shoulders, at his arms and ruffled hair, at his bright eyes, she decides he's the best thing she's seen in a long while. So she leans up to kiss him again, plucking at his shirt and murmuring, "Take this off for me."

Matt takes it off immediately, tossing it aside and kissing her, his mouth warm against hers, even warmer than his hands, reaching out to cup her face.

The kiss goes on and on, until she finally has to break it off, lightheaded--this is fantastic, of course, but not where she wants this to go. So she pushes him lightly, guiding him towards the bed, where he ends up lying back, his head resting against her pillows, watching her with warm, appreciative eyes as she straddles him.

He really just might be the best thing she's ever seen.

"So how do you want me?" Matt breathes against her mouth, and Alesha shivers.

"This'll do fine," she murmurs, leaning down to kiss him briefly, before sitting back up.

"Can," Matt starts, hesitant, raising his hand for a moment before dropping it back down to his side, "Can I touch you? Or--"

Alesha bites at her lip, considering. "Yeah," she says at last. "Yeah, you can. Just--don't try and get me off, all right? That's not--I don't want that."

Matt nods, serious. "Of course. Whatever you want."

Alesha kisses him again, dropping light kisses over his mouth, his face, until Matt's breathing has turned quick and shallow. "I want to see you," she says again, breathing it out against his ear, and is rewarded with a shiver.

"All right," Matt murmurs, his eyes closed.

Alesha's already touching him by the time Matt unzips his jeans, her hands skimming along his bare shoulders, running down his chest.

By the time he starts stroking himself, Matt's breathing has gotten noiticeably unsteady, and he says with a quick huff of laughter, "Keep touching me like that and this won't last too much longer."

"Do you usually go for a marathon, then?" Alesha asks lightly, and Matt laughs, his eyes crinkling, his chuckle ending in a soft gasp as his thumb slips over the head of his cock.

Matt's got a hand resting on her hip, and he's staring up at her, mouth parted, eyes heavy-lidded. Alesha looks right back at him, warmth pooling in the base of her stomach, flaring up between her legs. She thinks of talking, of saying something like show me, let me see, I want to watch, except he already knows all that. So she just keeps her hands moving all over his body, watching the way his hips rise up, watches the way his eyes fall shut and he bites at his lip to keep from making any noise.

When he finally comes, Alesha leans down and kisses him, murmuring against his mouth, "That was perfect."

Matt's hand moves to the nape of her neck, holding her close. "What about you, what do you--"

"I've got it," Alesha promises, moving back so she can move off Matt, curl up onto her side. "I--just kiss me," she says softly, her hands moving to the button and zipper of her own jeans, her fingers slipping beneath her underwear.

It doesn't take long at all, her fingers working against her clit, Matt's mouth hot and rough against hers. Alesha comes with Matt's arm wrapped around her, holding her close. They stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, trading soft, lazy kisses until they both fall asleep.

*

Alesha wakes up first in the morning, dropping a kiss on top of Matt's head before getting up and starting breakfast.

She's humming a song underneath her breath as she gets the coffeemaker working, and when she hears the sounds of Matt getting up, his footsteps on the floorboards as he makes his way to the kitchen, she's already smiling before she's even turned around to say hello.

"Hello yourself," Matt says, his voice warm as he drops a kiss on her mouth, and Alesha's still smiling as she turns her attention back to the food. It's going to be one of those days, she thinks, where she can't help but be smiling all the time.

Alesha's looking forward to it.


End file.
